A Bushel and A Peck
by imanut
Summary: [Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn]a series of oneshots and drabbles. First oneshot up. On one sunny autumn day, Aunt Polly discovoers a wounded Huck curled up on her veranda. Slash


A BUSHEL AND A PECK

-A Series of Drabbles and Oneshots-

By imanut

This is probably my first fanfic in possibly over a year or two. I apologize for those who have missed reading some of my things.

Currently in my English class, we are reading _Huckleberry Finn_. I've decided to pick up _Tom Sawyer_ as well because I couldn't help but be curious and I've come to the conclusion the two boys would make a cute couple insert maniacal grin. When I got home and finished my homework, I started hunting down TomHuck fics, but found only a few. Two of them were sort of cute, but I found that the one I liked the best was "Lazy Days." ((Go find it and read it. It's terribly adorable.)) Disappointed with the lack of Huck Finn fics (and lack of that pairing) I decided to do something about it myself. I hope my attempt doesn't suck.

DISLAIMER: I own nothing….

WARNINGS: Slash (sweet wonderful man-love), abuse…

Enjoy

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ONESHOT I

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Despite the chill in the air, it was a beautiful autumn day. The sun shined brightly, illuminating the earth below. Every now and then, a harsh gust of wind would rip the orange, red and brown painted leaves from the trees, possibly foretelling an adult's promotion past their prime years. It was supposed to be a day that posed no worries.

However, Aunt Polly, dressed in her "Sunday Best," found herself suspiciously eyeing a boy nestled, with his legs drawn to his chest, in the corner of her porch where the banister met the house. She knew all to well who the boy was. Quietly, she left the window and marched to the staircase.

"Would you hurry up, Tom?" she cried. Aunt Polly exited the frond door, shutting it behind her, and walked until she stood a good three feet in front of the boy with auburn hair, all the while ignoring her nephew's response. He did not look up nor did he seem to notice her.

"Git up, Huckleberry Finn." It was not a request. He did nothing. "I asked you to git up!" she commanded once again, her voice holding more authority than before. The auburn haired boy flinched and curled into more of a ball than he previously represented. Aunt Polly could not help but notice that the drunkard's son seemed to favor his left hand.

* * *

"I'm 'a' comin'!" cried Tom as he finished tying the laces of his Sunday boots, grumbling over the impatience of his dear aunt. His cousin Mary looked him over, inspecting his appearance and correcting all imperfections. She voiced her praise at his submission ("There's a good boy.") and headed downstairs to sit in the parlor with Sid. He stood there and grumbled a bit and stared at his appearance in the looking glass before turning to stalk out his bedroom door. 

The curly-haired boy restrained himself from stomping down the stairs and made his way to the room where the other two resided. Mary was shifting anxiously and Sid glanced at the window every nine seconds. Tom's eyes traveled around the room, only to find his guardian was absent.

"Where's Aunt Polly?" asked Tom.

"Out on the v'randa," replied Mary.

"Why ain't you out there then?"

"She's –a –a –"

"—Busy with somethin' most important," Mary intervened to save Sid. Tom looked at them suspiciously and headed out the front door, all the while mumbling about hurring up his aunt.

He stepped out onto the veranda and looked about him. On his left was the much sought after aunt, kneeling at the corner where the banister met the house. Cocking his head to the side in confusion, Tom began to approach his guardian. As he opened his mouth to give a sass-filled remark, his breath hitched at the sight of his aunt trying to wrestle Huck Finn's left arm away from him. His heart wrenched at the fear he saw swimming in his best friend's hazel eyes.

Tom stepped closer to the pair, his Sunday boots clunking on the whitewashed wood of the porch. He did not notice his aunt's thankful eyes upon him, nor did he see the eavesdropping eyes peering out the slightly raised parlor window. All he noticed were the melancholic emotions radiating from the tense body huddled in that corner.

Aunt Polly moved out of the way as Tom walked closer. He sat down at Huck's left, slouching as comfortably as he could with his back pressed against the wooden poles, and wrapped his right arm around his companion's shoulders. In a swift motion, he reached out with his left hand and pulled Huck's head into his chest. Tom slowly began petting the mass of wild, auburn hair in a most loving manner, whilst the other arm stayed wrapped around his slim shoulders. Huck securely clutched the front of Tom's shirt with his right hand. The curly-haired boy leaned until his lips were inches from the boy's ear and whispered: "Let Aunt Polly see yer hand." Huckleberry did so.

She gently took the boy's wrist, examined it, and muttered something about fetching a doctor. Polly stood up (she swaggered a bit due to her age), went to the window, and raised it the rest of the way. She made no remark on their eavesdropping, but ordered the two children to fetch a physician before he made it to the church and to be quick about it. As Mary and Sid raced down the road, Aunt Polly motioned for her nephew and his friend to follow her inside.

With the utmost care, Tom was able to coax Huckleberry into standing upright. The auburn haired boy never relinquished his iron grip on his crutch, and said crutch did likewise. Together, they shuffled into the parlor.

"Set down an' have him place that hand a' his on that pilla'," said Aunt Polly, pointing to the sofa resting by the open window before heading back out onto the veranda.

While the door was in the midst of closure, the curly-headed boy did as his aunt commanded (for once willingly obeying out of sheer worry for his beloved companion) but sitting on the auburn-haired boy's right his time. As Tom's bottom settled onto the cushions, Huckleberry laid his head upon the boy's lap, gazing at the furnishings on the opposite side of the room. Tom once again began to pet the sorrowful boy's hair.

Minutes seemed to pass like hours. By the time eleven minutes had come to pass, Sid and Mary were running through the gate with an elderly doctor in tow. The elderly gent was greeted by Aunt Polly who immediately led him to where her sister's son sat with the town drunk's son. He examined the wrist – a severe sprain was the deduction of the elder's scrutinizing and noticed a few discolorations decorating a couple fingers on that very hand. The index and ring fingers of Huck's left hand were announced broken and the doctor stinted and wrapped three fingers (the middle one was included for convenience). When finished, the elderly physician collected his fee and headed back home to deposit his equipment.

From their position by the fireplace, Aunt Polly, Mary, and Sid observed the two on the sofa.

"Go an' get changed. The both of you ar' filthy," mumbled the woman. "And be quick about it." The two scurried up the staircase once again. As they disappeared, Aunt Polly slowly glided over to speak to Tom.

"I'm a' going to let you boys stay here. Now, Tom, don't you think this'll be a re'a'currin' event, 'cause it ain't. Just…just be good," she said. Tom saw the reluctance to leave rolling behind her eyes and nodded his understanding.

* * *

The three other occupants of the house had long since left, leaving Tom and Huck by their lonesome. Silence roared throughout the house for neither boy spoke. Tom did not stop running his hands through the auburn hair. By simply looking at it, one may assume that Huckleberry's hair would be course and rough, but in truth, it was soft like a down feather and as smooth as silk. The texture of that hair was mesmerizing. Tom bent over and breathed in the scent of the Mississippi River and the aroma of the woods that merged with Huck's own distinct boyish smell…_intoxicating_. He was so immersed in deciphering the textures and smells of his companion that he barely caught the whispered commentary. 

"'M sorry," whispered Huckleberry. Tom's eyes widened a smidgeon then lowered once again.

"What for? You ain't done nuthin' wrong. Don't be 'pologizin' for nuthin,'" Tom replied softly.

"It ain't for nuthin'. For ev'rythin' I…" he trailed off. A new scent made itself known to Tom as his friend's shoulders began to shudder. He was shaken by the sound of Huck's sobs. There were only a handful of times he had seen Huckleberry Finn cry. Of all of those times, there had been no body-wracking sobs. Maybe there was something inflicted upon him that was possibly overlooked? Minding his friend's wrist and fingers, Tom rolled him over onto his back, arranging Huck's head where he was facing him. He raised his left hand and wiped the tears away while whispering sweet nothings. At this moment, Tom decided he did not appreciate seeing his friend in tears. He so desperately wanted to find Huckleberry's tormentor and destroy him for his sins.

The sobs became less frequent and Huck reached up with his uninjured hand. He cupped Tom's cheek and caressed it with a calloused thumb.

"D-don't you be doin' nuthin' dumb," he muttered, mustering the most serious gaze possible. Tom could only clasp that hand with one of his own, offer a light reassuring squeeze, and solemnly nod…

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ONESHOT I END.

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Well, I hope that didn't suck. I am more than convinced they're OOC. In a sense, I'm proud of it, though I'm fully aware there are things I could do to make it ten times better. 

There will be several ((unrelated) drabbles and oneshots on the way, so later there may be a sort of sequel to this…if I feel like it. I suppose we'll just have to see what happens.

Please review…no flames please….


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